On Dare Lane
by UndoneChaos
Summary: Random dare sexiness insures between the Stylenny threesome! Someone gets a tattoo in a private place, someone gets a piercing–But of what? And yes, even someone gets plastic surgery. Sorry, this is probably brain barf considering I haven't even slept in 24 hours.


**Warning: This story is fucking random and contains gaiety, plastic surgery, piercings, and tattooery. ALSO! It's a Stan/Kenny/Kyle threesome story. But they don't have sex.**

**In this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I fucking wish.**

"Pick", and the hand that followed suit, shoving a clear glass bowl directly in my peripheral vision, yeah. That was Kenny too. I grunted at the blonde's over-hyper anticipation at me picking a stupid _card_. Then again, the orange-clad boy asked for very little on very few occasions, so I quickly snatched one of the flimsy papers out of their container.

"Remember, dude. You can't look yet." Thank you, Stan, for that little piece of information that has been pressed into my brain by not only you but Kenny as well, several times now. I flipped the card over with an exasperated sigh, just wanting this to be over with. Thanksgiving with Ken was rarely–albeit never–a good idea, especially when he introduced some sort of kinky sex game into the peace and quiet of stuffing and mashed potatoes.

"Alright, we all have our cards, yes?" Kenny's ocean blue eyes scanned the two of us, his mouth turning up in a slight smirk at each of our nods. "Good, then it's settled. I'll now explain the rules. We each have a card, right? Well, on that card is a super personal question. We're going to play Dare now, but here's the catch. If you find your dare so unfit that you can't possibly do it, you can instead opt to answer the question on your card. Got it?" Stan gave a short 'yes', but I just stared at Kenny like he was a pyromaniac. About to burn my house down. Which he was, but not the house part. Everyone knew Kenny had an insatiable lust for flames.

"OK! So who wants to go first?" Silence. "Aw, guys, be fun!" And he knows I can't resist that pouted lip, so I sighed and caved.

"Yeah, Kenny, alright. I'll go first." He grinned his perfect white teeth at me, the reflection of a nearby lamp on the clear enamel nearly blinding me.

"OK, so… Who do you dare?" Oh, that's what he meant. I thought he meant I would have to be dared first. Huh. I thought a while about who I would want to dare and what I'd make them do, and finally an idea clicked.

"I think I have it", I said slowly, as if spelling out the words for him. He looked at me eagerly, nodding. "But you aren't gonna like it. It's a bit extreme."

"Hence the cards?" Stan said, laughing. "Just… Who's it for?" I grinned at him like I had won the lottery.

"You."

"Me?" He did his double-take 'wait, what?', the one he'd been practicing over years of seeing things like talking poo or having to fly to Afghanistan. I nodded, still grinning. Either Stan was going to go through with this dare, or I would get to know whatever was on his card. Not like I didn't know everything about him already, we had been Super Best Friends since we were… Eight?

"Yeah, you. But you won't do it. There's no way in Hell."

"Try me." He looked so serious. Meanwhile, Kenny was hanging on the edge of anticipation like he was gonna jizz himself.

"I dare you…" I stopped to take a breath, "to get a boob job."

"WHAT?" And I'm pretty sure the next town over heard too. Kenny and me were on our backs like roly polies, laughing our asses off at Stan's wide-eyed and shell-shocked expression. I think I was about to pee. "You're joking, right?" he asked after a long wait of us to shut up. I shook my head.

"Nah, dude. That's the dare!" He glared at me then looked at Kenny, eyeing him with determination.

"Can I, like, check my card and then decide?" Kenny shook him head, very sincere. Stan just… Deflated. "No? God dammit. Alright, then. I… Shit, I guess I'm getting boobs." _Waitwhat_. No way in Hell Marsh was–

"Come on, bro. Let's go get you gazongas!" Kenny and his crude choice of words helped my set-minded SBF off of the floor, stopping momentarily to eye me curiously. "Aren't you coming?"

"Oh, definitely." I said, nodding and smirking. Yeah, this was going to be an interesting night.

—

The time in the waiting room of the plastic surgery clinic seemed very long, although it was probably just a mere hour. I guess Kenny's excitement set him off on a Tweek spree, because he started jittering and tapping his foot uncontrollably. I tried to shut him up with a few whacks from a rolled up Time magazine I had found, but resorted to just burying my nose in another of the myriad of catalogs and old books on the chipped side tables. His twitching eventually stopped, and when I looked up I found out why.

Stan had emerged from the surgery room, bundled up like jack frost was trying to turn his dick to ice. I'd say he was buried under about… Four layers of thick parkas. This not only made him look like a marshmallow… Heh, Marsh-mallow… But it also hid his new boobs quite well. I couldn't tell if I was seeing an outline or if it was just another layer. Kenny's shoulders rolled with laughter the whole way home, making it not only extremely hard to sit next to him in his bat up pick-up, but it also lessened his bad driving skills to horrible ones.

Stan the human creme puff was also sitting next to me, his faux fatness shoving against me and making me terribly hot in the car with no A/C. I groaned when we were finally let out of the car, gasping for sweet, fresh mountain air.

We got inside and immediately Kenny sprouted off with a million repeats of the same question: Can we see them _now_? I too, was also anxious, but in more of a I-needed-the-proof way than Kenny's perv way. Stan turned around, cheeks flushed, and I couldn't tell if it was from the bundle of clothes or embarrassment. He started with the first jacket, then the next, going down the layers until he got to his jean button-up shirt, the very last layer he had on. Then, without warning, he popped it open, turned around, and faced us with size C cups at _least_. I really think Kenny did jizz that time.

"Fuck, dude!" I screeched, now the shell-shocked one. Now I'm gay, so this wasn't the slightest bit of a turn on to me, except it was. For some crazy reason I was actually turned on by boobs. The thought that maybe it was because they were _Stan's boobs_ made my brain hurt, so I turned attention over to Kenny. His eyes were glazed over with guess what, his mouth open and drooling–yuk!–, and there was a definite hard on in his pants. Don't ask why I looked there, OK? Just… Don't.

"Can I touch them?" Ken asked the question everyone knew was coming, looking timid and shy in the process while still retaining the fiery lust in his eyes. Stan just gawked at him, shutting his shirt closed.

"No, bad Kenny. We still have a whole game to play, remember?" Kenny nodded, defeated, and sat down. I followed suit, still looking at Stan in amazement, only gaining a shrug from him. "My turn. Ken, I dare you to…" And for once, Stan was at a loss for words. "No, wait! I dare you to get a cock tattoo."

"Like a tattoo of a cock or–"

"No, _on_ your cock." Ken squealed and then literally fainted, poor thing. I glared at Stan who just looked at me, smug, and helped me fan Ken until he returned to us. He agreed shakily, because knowing what the cards said–he had written them–I suppose he didn't want to take a chance.

—

Kenny, like I had suspected, kept his cool. He had agreed without question, which made Stan a whole lot of pissy, and sooner than later we were back in Ken's booze-cigar truck, driving to Denver Tattoos. When we got there, Stan naturally got to pick out the design. Although, really, fuck was only natural for a cock tattoo.

Ken sealed his mouth shut and clamped his eyes tight through the whole thing, never crying out or even crying once. I just sat there amazed, Stan right next to me, only watching Ken's face but so shocked that he wasn't even making a sound. I think I had to close my eyes when Kenny actually did scream, hiding my face in Stan's newfound voluptuous chest. He just averted his eyes with me, burying his face into my red curls. I had given up on my hat years ago when Cartman, asshole that he is, trained a falcon to come shit on it.

I had to drive us back to Stan's because Kenny proclaimed his cock was too sore. Not sure how he would need that to drive, but not wanting his excuse, I took the keys and shoved them into the ignition, speeding us back home like good little boys. Yeah, boys with tatts on their cocks and boobs the size of watermelons. Thank Fuck we were 18 and could do whatever the shit we wanted.

We got home and Kenny cried, mostly because Stan still wouldn't let him touch his boobs, but also from the pain of the fuck on his cock. Wow, that sounded way too weird. I mean the word fuck tattooed on his cock. Yeah, that's better.

It was Ken's turn at last though, which definitely poured some cheerup on his paincakes. But that also meant that he was going to dare me, seeing as everyone else had already been dared. It wasn't fair because Ken knew I hated tattoos, or body alterations, or any of that shit. That's how he got me.

"I dare you, Kyle Broflovski, to get a bellybutton piercing." What. He was insane. No. No. No no no! Not even. And I told him.

"Uh-uh. No way." But then of course he had to rub the card thing in my face, along with Stan's boobs and his dick tattoo. I only could say 'yes' at this point. I mean, I guess he made it fair enough with what he picked out.

—

It seemed like every dare we did just caused, well, a shitload of driving to Denver and back, but this dare actually caused a walk down the street to Nine Inch Pain, the piercing store the Goths had opened after graduating (which we were all surprised they did). Dylan just greeted us with a flip of his red dye streaked fringe, although Evan's eyes got considerably wider at Stan's breasts. Henrietta, the one who actually did the piercings, was not at all surprised to see us in there. She actually greeted us warmly. Well, as warmly as you want to call ''Hey, you're nerd kid. Here to get a piercing? What the fuck happened, Jewfro?" At least Dylan said it was warmer than her usual greeting.

Evan lead me to the back, literally pushing me into a black chair, and then left to get the piercing gun for Henrietta. Kenny whispered to Dylan what he wanted it to be, who whispered it to Henrietta, who covered my ears and shouted it to Georgie, who was in the other back room with all of the actual rings and things. He came in at the same time as Evan, handed her what Kenny had said he wanted, and she loaded it into the gun. Evan stood back and watched, amused, along with Georgie who was chatting with Stan about his new look. Kenny had somehow convinced Dylan to lust over Stan's boobs with him, and the sight of that was so funny that it distracted me from the shooting pain as I was permanently pierced with a bellybutton ring.

Henrietta looked back and admired her work, laughing at my painful expression. She pulled me–literally pulled me–up from the chair and stood me straight, holding my shirt up high enough for the piercing to show. Evan muttered some comment which sounded a lot like "Too bad he isn't a girl. He's got some damn curvy childbearing hips." I just blushed and attempted to hide my face in something, anything that would cover my embarrassment. Henrietta shoved my shirt back down and patted my shoulder.

"That on's on me, kid. Now get the fuck outta my store." But know I knew what warm for her was, because the way she was smiling at me was almost like a mother duck.

—

When I got home I immediately ran to the bathroom to see what Ken had picked. The first thing I noticed: Evan was right. I had huge, girlish hips for a guy. The second thing made me smile. The piercing Kenny had picked out–probably with a little bit of Stan's aid–was a blue miniature Star of David. I left my shirt up and walked out of the bathroom to my friends. Stan ran past me to check out his rack, which earned a squeak from him, and as soon as he returned, Kenny went to check out his tattoo.

When we were all back together in the same room, Kenny slipped over his card. "And just for added measure, we get to answer one of the most embarrassing things of all time!" Me and Stan followed him in flipping our cards, and he went first. "OK, what is your top sexual fantasy? Man, that one's easy. Getting fucked by tentacles made of fire." He didn't even blush once, because Hell we'd been through a lot today. I went next.

"What is the kinkiest dream you've ever had? Huh…" I pondered that for a while, realizing that I didn't remember. But then I did, and blushed bright red. "Uh, I dreamed that I was tied to my bed, gagged, cock-ringed, and…" I took a deep breath. "Getting fucked by both of you."

"At the same time?" Stan asked, louder than Kenny's exclamation of "Hot Damn!" I just nodded in response to both of them.

"Well, I guess it's my turn. What's something really weird and sexual that you want to do before you die?" He paused, looked from the ground to the ceiling in a quick flit of his sky blue yes, and then bursted out "To have Ken suck on my tits." He blushed, Ken drooled, and I gawked. He hid his face, Ken's eyes were bright with lust, and I just gawked.

"Really?" Ken asked. "I mean really really?" Stan nodded, embarrassed, and I just smirked. Ken nodded. "OK, Stanley. May your wish come true." He looked at me, winked, and then turned back to Stan. Reaching up ever so carefully, he slowly unbuttoned each of the buttons on Stan's jean shirt before popping it open and letting his hands fall.

"You think I'll feel it?" I nodded.

"You still have all of your nerves. You should." Ken grinned from ear to ear at this comment, still drooling over Stan's knockers in his face.

"Ready, Marsh?" he cooed, and Stan gave him an anxious nod. Without hesitation, Kenny leaned forward and latched his full, pink lips to Stan's left nipple. Stan gasped at the contact, and Kenny sucked. Hard. I actually think he bit Stan too, just lightly, because occasionally Stan would cry out, his head bowed back in pleasure. Kenny just full on attacked him, licking, sucking, biting everywhere he could. His left hand found Stan's other nipple and he started to play with it, pinching, twisting, brushing his fingertips against it. Stan cried out and bucked up into Kenny, who ground into him, and I just sat there, all hot and bothered, pants way too tight, and full on sexed up by watching Ken work.

He eventually popped off Stan and looked to me, grinning his cheshire cat grin. "Sorry we left you out, Ky. How about we make your dream come true too?" I only merely nodded as Kenny attacked me, dragging a panting Stan to aid him.

**HAPPY THANKSGIVING! THIS IS TOTALLY FUCKING RANDOM AND I HOPE I DIDN'T BORE THE SHIT OUT OF YOU! I'm going to write that sext, smutty, fucked up threesome, don't worry. Just… Later. I need my sleep.**

**I bet I made twenty-something errors, but I'm too tired to care right now. Please ignore any you find, unless they are so hilarious you must inform me.**

**Ciao for now**

–**Chaos **


End file.
